Home
by Flailingkittylover
Summary: Her family is full here and wearing smiles brighter than anything she deserved to see. Minor manga spoilers. Post Time Skip Babyfic Collection of family one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

**I was going over some of my old stories and figured this could use some cleaning up in grammer/explanation.**

"Out of all the shitty, stupid favors I've done for Armin, _this_ has to be the _worst_." Connie complained, his teeth grinding together. "Being the most agile doesn't rush childbirth I thought he was fucking smar- _OW!"_ Connie howled over-dramatically, Annie's digging grip hard enough to crush the bones in his hands.

"You make it sound like either of us had a choice in this." Annie hissed hoarsely. She glowered at him from a side glance, a curtain of sweaty bangs over her eyes and light, gold hair spread out over the pillow in a messy halo. "So shut up already."

Connie groaned, his fingers turning purple and body twisting about in the seat next to her. "For fucks sake Armin, where _are you_?! Your stubborn kid is taking _forever_!"

Annie pondered the same before laces from a spiked corset tightened around her torso. The lances sunk in deep, urging forth a tight pain so intense, Annie couldn't hold back a strangled cry. "Ngh- _ah!"_ Her eyes slammed shut as her shoulders and back curled up off the mattress, re-starting her fight against agony, and if the strain hadn't been pulsating blood in her eardrums or quivering every muscle, she would have found Connie's pained yowls and flailing more funny.

But Annie supposed she should be grateful. With pregnancy rendering her discomfitingly vulnerable, Connie watched over her. He was less of a runt now—still obnoxious, however—, but he always ensured her safety or quick passage of escape, going so far as to send Sasha off to spread word that her water had broken while he rushed Annie to the hospital. Even her crushing his hand bones into dust was his own offer, mumbling something about him fulfilling a debt to her before he outstretched his hand for her to grab.

But that was nine hours ago and Armin was nowhere to be seen. Did his team go beyond the wall already?

A vice clamped down on her swollen abdomen again, earning a jolt and a choked sob from its victim. She twisted blankets between her fingers, Connie's hand no longer sating her urge to crush.

Marrying a Corpsman came with the territory that he wouldn't be home much and Armin was exceptionally busy, his brain being the only weapon comparable to Titan abilities, if not more precious.

But she was selfish and the human desire she once caged so deep only Armin could call it forth was desperate for his hold. Healing abilities or not, if she had to bear any more of the razor-edged raking along her lower back and burning down below, Annie swore she would faint.

The midwife at the end of the bed encouraged her on, Connie somehow appearing more relieved than Annie to hear that one more push will end it all. Her inner warrior stirred, stimulating her to rise up and act on a focus so fierce, Connie's eyes bugged out his sockets, sputtering loudly for help, and a shriek at a height she's never made before filled the room.

Annie released her stressball—or hand in this case?—and both of the soldiers fell, Connie to the floor, and Annie onto her pillow. Her head lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded and white-gowned chest searching anxiously for breath.

A shrill wail rang through the fog in Annie's ears, the pitch growing stronger with every hitched breath. She glanced down towards the end of the bed, but her vision was too blurry and shaky. Closing her eyes, Annie opted to listen. An odd peace crept over her, warm waves lapping back and forth from inside her chest down to the tips of her numb limbs as loud, healthy cries filled the room.

Boots clomped beside the bed and Annie's instincts sensed a figure looming over her.

"Here you are." The midwife announced cheerfully. "Careful now."

She turned her head in time to see her body's evicted tenant laid on the center of her chest, their flushed skin extraordinarily warm and soft. The newborn made hiccuped wails against the newfound cold, squirming chubby limbs atop the new mother until a blanket fell over the discontent baby. Annie's arms ran on instinct and encircled the child, carefully caressing a trembling back through the fuzzy blanket, tucking the fabric in to keep in heat and ease the loud caterwauls until they became soft whines. Her other hand's fingers petted over a tuft of platinum blonde head curls, soft and new to her touch.

Somewhere in her hearing, Annie heard the midwife speak and Connie moan but she ignored them, favoring to note how much of a small, _fussy_ thing this child was. A pink, scrunched forehead repeatedly buried into Annie's sternum, the baby letting out a defeated whine and curling and uncurling adorably small hands in frustration; Annie figured her baby has found out that burrowing back into their familiar cocoon was impossible. She pecked the youngling's fragile head in consolation even though Annie is more than happy to finally have this restless being out of her.

But an unshakable dedication inspired more nudges and wriggles, proving to Annie that already, this baby was too much like her.

She should have been worried but adoration unhid the teeth from her smile instead.

" _Annie!"_ The door burst open with a kick. A sinewy Corpsman sprinted inside, his face red from exertion, and short, cropped hair slick with sweat. He looked over at her, panting, her head quirking up and brows furrowing with surprise to see his swords drawn and clothes a disheveled mess. His eyes fell on the blanketed infant on Annie's chest, a smile peaking on his lips before swapping his attention over to the midwife, wordlessly searching for answers.

"I don't think your wife heard me, so I'll say it again: everything went perfectly." The exposed skin on the side of the woman's facemask crinkled up, hinting a smile. "You two have a healthy girl."

Armin's smile went impossibly wide and Annie's head fell back against the pillow.

 _Girl._

"T-Thank you!" Armin dropped his swords and grabbed the older woman's hands with both of his, shaking them over-enthusiastically. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help! Just _thank you_!"

A humoured snort left Annie, amused to watch the midwife eagerly yank back her hand and wave him off humbly. She collected her things, tiptoed around his swords which he scrambled to pick up, and walked out the door as Armin thanked her again for the sixth time.

"Excuse me!" A hand launched up into the air and waved about. "I think you're forgetting to thank someone else here! Someone who you should start _bowing_ to!" Connie brought himself up from the ground, groaning and clutching at his wrist where fingers bent in the shape of a staircase resided.

Connie poked Armin in the chest with an elbow, "Don't forget this in my promotion letter when you move up the chain, Arlert. You owe me at least that much for this. _Oh!_ Or maybe get Hange to make me a cool new set of fingers! Because _shit,_ I'll be lucky to wipe my own ass with this hand ever again."

Annie's eyes rolled while Armin retained a small, appreciative smile. "I can't promise anything except that I'll ask." He took Connie's good hand and shook it. "Thank you, Connie. Really."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and be with your family already you goob." Just as Connie was taking his leave, he took the opportunity to look at Annie through non-tearing eyes. She nodded gently at him, her own form of thanks and he scratched the back of his head, his face growing a little softer. "Congratulations."

The door closed. With her far-side vision clearing, Annie noticed a shift in Armin as he looked about the room. The happiness in his eyes blended with remorse and he cringed towards the waste basket, noticing the stained blankets that helped bring their daughter into the world. She knew his worry would worsen once he finally logged her almost transparent pallor and fatigued lines under her eyes.

"Annie..I.."

She waved a dismissive hand, knowing what he was going to say, but Armin always talked too much for his own good. "I got the message just as we got back. There's some festival downtown so the streets were packed and the horses wouldn't move. I had to use my 3DM gear and break a window on the second floor just to get here and I _don't think_ the Survey Corp will pay for i-"

"All of that doesn't matter." Annie responded curtly. She tapped the seat next to her, ushering him over. " _Look."_

Armin zipped over with the same speed of him spotting a new book. He helped prop Annie up with extra pillows as she winced and strained to sit up. His eyes twinkled, watching his wife resettle the fidgeting newborn into her arms until the baby was peacefully nestled inside. Annie's hand took the side of her daughter's face, running a thumb over a small forehead and down cheeks that were slowly gaining a pinkish hue. The baby's eyelids trembled until finally, her eyes opened.

Annie's stomach performed backflips when grey-blue met her parent's. She wondered if this color was temporary or if she had to cope with her own eyes staring back at her for the rest of her life. The baby flinched from surprise when Armin slid the pad of his middle finger over her small, pointed nose— it was the one feature Annie was sure she got from him **.**

"Annie, you did it." Armin worded breathlessly. His smile was ear to ear. "You _did it."_ Lanky but assuring arms surrounded her shoulders and then a kiss met her temple, along with another, then another, then she had to shake her head to ward him off from further pushing sticky hair into her face. She bargained for resting her head in the space below his chin.

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I know I should have been here and…"

She bumped her forehead against his jawline in a demand for silence, driving Armin to jolt and nearly bite on his tongue. "I said it doesn't matter. You're here now."

Relief loosened the tension in his hold. His cheek cuddled her crown and brought his hand over the one Annie used to brush her fingers over their daughter's cheek. They stayed like that until Annie felt Armin start to fidget, his nudges pausing, like he was preparing to broach something.

"Annie, can I…?" His hand hovered over his daughter's head, questioning.

 _Oh._

"Of course." He beamed as she twisted around to face him, easing the baby into the crook of her father's arms.

"Hey there," Armin bobbed his daughter up and down, his voice as light and hushed as one would use to coax out a frightened animal. A finger poked the tip of his nose. "This is Poppa, remember? I've read to you a lot, and even when Momma fell asleep, I always knew _you_ were listening." He gave Annie a passing glance to which she responded with an arching brow and crossing arms that scolded _he_ would be tired too if he had to carry a life for nine months straight.

He bit his lips, obviously suppressing a laugh and glanced back down at the baby stuffing fingers into her mouth. Annie saw his sharp mind analyzing her, soaking her in until she heard him whisper. "You're absolutely amazing. Wow, I bet you are going to be the _spitting image_ of your mother. Come on, give Poppa a smile. _Smileee._ Don't tell me you've got Mom's sense of humor too."

Two strikes and Annie shot him a look of warning but Armin couldn't suppress a hearty laugh, widely grinning. He made it up to his exhausted wife by making a fool of himself, entertaining his girls by stretching out a cheek with a stuck-out tongue and wiggling his fingers under his chin. A smile tugged at the corner of Annie's lips and the baby's cooes turned gleeful.

Armin's bouncing suddenly stopped, recollection sweeping over him. He quickly stood up. "Take her for a second."

Annie pushed hair over her ear, blinking rapidly. "Leaving so soon?"

He touched his forehead to hers. "Not a chance. Just give me a quick minute."

Armin filled the emptiness of her arms with her newborn again and darted out of the room. The baby was quick to cuddle up against Annie, burrowing and nudging her breast in a hunt for warmth until a nest was made. Lazy silver-blue irises rolled up to meet her mother's, a silent acknowledgement told between them that she thought not being back in her originating home wasn't _too bad,_ that these arms were warm and felt like enough before letting her eyelids droop and fall.

An emotion-riddled blitz shattered her heart. A war of happiness, pride, and a peculiar sorrow wracked at Annie's shoulders and brought her head down, hair of the same color dangling over her baby's face. Annie sobbed silently like she learned to do and brought her baby closer to her chest, her response grateful and explaining that no matter how much her daughter may wish otherwise in adolescent years, her mother will always be there.

She heard the door open and her hand snapped up to wipe at her eyes. She quickly composed herself as Armin took his seat next to her. Annie kissed her baby's forehead and lingered there, savoring this new warmth before looking up and finding Armin flashing her a wide, dopey grin.

"Look who Sasha brought over." He lifted up and plopped a small boy no older than three onto his lap. Annie's breath caught. A warm affection tingled down her temples when the miniature face and bright, blue eyes of his father's stared into hers. "Momma! Sasha took me to the market today and they had _everything_! Even fish bigger than Daddy! Can we get one next time we go? _Pleaseeee_?"

Annie's finger tapped the curved nose her son inherited from her. "Only if you answer me this: you were out late tonight, with _Sasha._ You didn't over-indulge at the sweet store next to the meat market she frequents, hm? She knows how much you like that place and _you know_ how eating late bugs your stomach."

Her son's smile turned nervous. "...N-No the...the candy store was closed! It was closed and we ate fish instead of meat because the meat market was also closed."

"The candy store, which doesn't close tonight because of the festival, was closed and Sasha chose to eat fish rather than eating the sirloin celebration special." She repeated candidly. "Is that right?"

"...yes."

At least when _she_ lied, she tried to make it convincing.

"Today's been a stressful day for everyone, so I think we'll let it slide." Armin amended with a small laugh. Her son's biggest enabler ruffled the canary blonde locks atop his head. "Right now, we want you to meet someone."

The twinkle in their son's eyes shone like stars. Like them, he had been waiting for months to see the sibling he'd been teased about, and his excitement showed when he shot up, outreaching small hands towards the bundle with such speed it shocked his parents. Armin quickly grabbed his son's hands, suspiciously pursing his lips. "You _did_ eat something though, didn't you? Did you wash your hands afterwards?"

The boy sucked in his lips, a delicate blush growing. "Uh…"

Annie breathed out her amusement through her nose, the corner of her lip pulling up, and Armin groaned. "Come on then, let's go."

He tucked his hands under his son's armpits and lifted him up, the toddler complaining and thrashing his limbs about the whole way to the bathroom. An aching soreness pulsated through Annie, her inner wounds still left unhealed, and yet all she could focus on was how her daughter's birth gave her the most beautiful excuse in weaseling out of cleaning their son for a small while. She was sure if Eren got enough soap suds splashed into his eyes, he would feel like his healing abilities would eventually be drained of all power too.

Once the whining and Armin's gentle demands ceased, her boy clambered back up to the bed. Annie stroked the underside of her son's pale chin, moving his head over to view his snoozing sister who she said was far too comfy to be woken up right now.

"She's really small…" The boy mused softly, tilting his head. Mini-ocean blue ran over his sister, his small hands touching his roman nose and hair in an odd acknowledgement that both siblings didn't look completely alike.

"We all were at one point." Armin's voice was gentle and the squeeze on his son's shoulders motioned the boy to look up. "That's why she has us; it's also why she has you. She needs her big brother to help protect her, so when she's big, both of you can protect each other." Armin's hands brushed back the short bangs on his son's forehead. "Being as big and strong as you are, Mom and I are confident you can do it. Think you're up for the job?"

The boy's eyes were the size of saucers. The dim flame in his eyes burst into a blue blaze and he tore out of his father's grasp, leapt out to stand on the bed and threw his hands into the air. " _You can count on me!"_ He roared out. "I'm the son of a Survey Corpsman! No one will pick on her while I'm around!"

Annie could only cover one of her ears, her head still throbbing from strain and eyebrow minorly twitching. Armin's jaw hung, a smile twitching on the side of his lips that was half proud of his son's enthusiasm and embarrassed that his yell spurred forth loud, choked squalls from their daughter.

Annie bounced the baby gently, sighing, "Either your oratory skills have gotten better or you've been letting Eren babysit him for too long."

Armin closed his eyes, his smile wobbly with apology while their once brazen boy paled. He dropped to his knees on the bed and waved his arms frantically before his sister. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't—I just— _please_ don't cry!"

"Honey, _sssshhhh_." Annie hushed. His eyes were watering and a reassuring comb of her hand through his soft, yellow strands helped him wipe at the tears leaking down his cheeks. She let her palm rest on his cheek, her thumb wiping away the rest. The boy's sister finally quieted, choosing to babble and investigate her hands instead.

Annie observed her son carefully, noticing how his back steeled and eyes turned resolute as he schooched over closer. He was careful as he brought his face over the bundle in his mother's arms, hesitating briefly before planting a lightning-quick peck to the top of his sisters head.

"I don't want to make you cry..." He muttered sadly. He smooshed his plump cheek against his mother's arm. "I'm sorry."

Emotions combated within her again and a shaky inhale and sharp clearing of her throat was all Annie could do to keep herself grounded. Armin, on the other hand, sat on the opposite side of their apologetic son and wrapped his arms around his family. The Corpsman's face was pulled up in a ridiculously sappy grin, tears budding at the corners of his eyes and Annie was amazed to find that even in his early twenties with two children and a higher position in tow, Armin still looked like such a boy himself.

Looking down, a smile from Annie that softened her eyes and graced her sharper cheekbones made her son blush and return a smile back. She kissed his little forehead and obliged the same to Armin's cheek when she had the misfortune of seeing his most over-exaggerated attempt at a jealous pout ever. Her son rubbed his face against her arm with the fervor of a child who recovered their long lost teddy bear and Armin rested his head within the valley of Annie's neck and shoulder.

A barrier of warmth encased her, the boys at both of her sides, her daughter insulating her chest. Warm currents of peace returned, enveloping her body and licking sore wounds until Annie felt like she was drowning. Her children's giggles from Armin's finger wiggling and silly faces sent her heart soaring and her husband's nudges and kisses into her neck let her body know she was alive. She closed her eyes.

A knock at the door raised their heads. Armin rubbed her arm and kissed Annie's temple in recognition he'd get it. After he opened the door, his eyes and smile were stagnant of emotion until they grew large, his arms raising up in welcome.

"Mr. Leonhardt!"

Annie's heart stopped.

"You're just in time!" Armin moved to the side, inviting the visitor inside. "Come in and meet your new granddaughter! We haven't named her yet but I think you'll want to hear it."

Annie held the baby tighter, driving the infant to fidget while her son jumped from her side and sprinted away. Focused iceberg blue never left the door, watching as footsteps and a cane slowly passed the threshold. A hobbled leg was taken prisoner by the man's grandson and Armin joined in to capture the old man in a hug.

When her father finally turned around to face her, the first thing Annie saw was his proud smile.

* * *

Annie's eyelids flew open. The sharp sting of cold blew over her shoulders as her torso shot up, sweat dripping down her forehead and wetting the back of her neck.

Wide eyes discovered she was back in her cell, an iron-barred door clamped shut before her, the stones damp and dreary as the shadows of torchlight danced against them.

Panting, Annie fell back onto her cot, vibrating orbs staring at the ceiling through a cage of fingers. Her breath hitched, feeling her cheek and fingers wetten and come away slick with tears.

Every moment where her heart swelled and warmth alighted her nerves was a peaceful figment. Armin was beyond the walls, cultivating his strategies and analyzing the enemy; her father was across the sea, sitting with the limp she gave him, waiting for her return while she laid here, sweating on a creaking cot, free from her crystal and stowed away deep in the Survey Corps dungeons.

One more year to live, her purpose of ending the race within these walls still standing unfulfilled, and this place was such a _hellhole_. As horrid as Marley was, at least there was a chance to live a prosperous life and avoid invasion by man-eating monsters.

Annie balled her fists over her face, repeating a mantra she built to help keep her heart cold: Paradis and the world was her enemy, this place was a death sentence, Father is waiting.

So _why_ didn't these _stupid_ tears _stop_?

She curled in on herself and cradled her pillow, desperate to fill an aching emptiness she never imagined feeling. Annie threw her paper-thin blanket over her back, wrapping it tightly around her arms and rubbing her cheek into her shoulder. Her eyelids fell, focusing on the warmth and softness around her, falling back into the dark, until slowly, the pillow in her arms stirred and cooed, her son's giggle mixing with Armin's laugh filling her ears, a barrier of warmth returning.

Only here, drowning in the depths of her dreams and desires could she have her father and call the most self-less man she'd ever known and his children hers.

She was home.

 **Ending inspired by song The Dark of You: Breaking Benjamin**


	2. Try

**Chapter name: Try**

 **A normal life doesn't exist, it never has...never will?**

 **At least here I can imagine a chance where Aruani babies can live ;~;**

 **Inspired music: Attack On Titan: Levi's Pain - Piano Cover ( Omake-Pfadlib )by YouMusicMDI**

* * *

Armin focuses.

His chest is pressed against Annie's back, face resting comfortably in the dip between her neck and shoulder. The muscles in her throat no longer stand out like cords when he holds her from behind, she's more comfortable with this, but an impatient elbow still ends up digging into his ribs.

"I can't move." Annie flatly explains. Armin nudges the side of her head with his own, not really answering her. He feels her lips wrinkle down into a frown. " _Armin_."

Armin detects the growing authority in her voice so he lifts his face up, his lips poking out in a pout. "But I'm comfortable."

"Well, I'm not so _move_." She pokes him again to push him back and logic yells at him that he really _should_ let her go, yet Armin chooses to respond only with a smile. His arms are wrapped around her waist with his fingers laced in front of her swollen belly, taking in the movement softly fluttering beneath his hands. A giddy sensation burns Armin's cheeks and his face starts to ache; he isn't used to smiling for so long.

Knowing when Armin is happy has become a sixth sense for Annie and it prompts her to raise a curious brow. "The baby moves every day." She explains matter-of-factly. "I don't see why this time is so different."

She isn't wrong. This isn't the first time the little one has moved and much to Annie's chagrin, it won't be the last either. Armin lifts his head, searching for the answer Annie looks to him for.

He recognizes that it's because of this setting. For the first time since Annie awoke, Hange agreed to let them meet outside her cell, to cook her own dinner in the wood-paneled Survey Corps kitchen rather than it be served on a metal tray. Soldiers standing sentry are visible through the window before them, voicing to Annie a silent threat that she is and always will be surrounded, but the starry, night sky with the moon glowing at its zenith overpowers their presence. All of it makes Armin feel like this is how it should be: to be safe in a house with Annie where they could come and go as they please, free from the chaos always pounding at the wall's gates.

To be alone with each other and their baby.

"Armin, I'm serious the food is about to burn so you need to move _now_."

Reason reigns Armin back in and he steps back, letting his arms fall away from her. He combs his fingers through his short, flaxen hair while she frantically works to juggle seasoning and sautéing vegetables. Armin makes a concerned hum and steps to her side to offer his help, but he holds back when Annie whips around and points a threatening wooden spoon at his nose.

"Ah-ah, sit down." She orders him. "I told you, I've got this."

He obeys her outright this time lest his hand-or his head-gets whacked. He takes a seat at the long, wooden table in the middle of the room, admiring how much this room has changed. Many nights were spent here, theorizing how to break Annie free, only food was hard to come by and when a loaf of bread was given, Armin was too in his head to eat. Now he's surrounded by surplus, the cabinets full of fresh crops and preserved meats, showing how far this starved little island has come.

Armin gravitates back to Annie when she moves, her nightdress flowing beneath her knees as she travels from the spice rack to the stove, putting the final touches to dinner. Months have passed since she escaped stasis and his mind can't help itself from studying her.

A golden waterfall of blond cascades past her shoulders along with her waist and hips sporting more shapely curves, but Annie has gained barely an inch of height, her skin somehow paler due to lack of sunlight. Armin hopes he can bring her out some day, let her feel the sun on her face, even if it's only for a moment. He'd beg Hange if he had to, especially if she is open to him taking a picture with Annie outside, where he could carry the photo in his pocket and pretend it was taken on a family picnic day.

He would take anything if it meant having something that keeps his family close when he's away.

Armin snaps out of it when a flaky mackerel is placed before him. A bundle of vegetables sits next to it and he's not sure where she got the rice came from. He isn't too keen about dinner staring back at him but Annie has worked hard at it; he also knows she's annoyed at the unexpected amount of waddling she did while cooking, and if he dares chuckle at how adorably difficult it looks for her to walk and sit down, Armin can kiss goodbye the luxury of having an unfractured skull.

Orbs filled with seawater twinkle as he says, "Thank you, Annie. It looks delicious!"

Annie can't manage to suppress the pleased curl lifting the side of her lips, but Annie's eyes expresses her skepticism. "Save your praise until after you try it. I haven't exactly gotten used to the age of your kitchens...or had practice."

"Nonsense, I'm sure it'll be great!" Armin sticks his fork into the mackerel and plugs the chunk into his mouth. Slowly, his cheeks flare with heat and he manages to keep his smile even through the awkward silence and lip-twitching over his fork. Invisible puffs of smoke burst out from his ears; he's not a spice person and she's used far too much paprika and the fish is dry and tough as he munches. A tiny fish bone pokes into his gums, but he pegs that as his own fault for not checking first.

Her arching brow is paired with an imperceptible smile. "That bad, huh?"

Armin waves his hands in front of him. "H-Hang on, I've only had one bite! Maybe it's a _little_ overcooked and the amount of paprika is a bit much, but maybe some people like it that way!" He aims his utensil at the cluster of veggies on his plate. "And I still have this left to try." He scoops it up and shoves it in his mouth. "Mmm, tasty!"

The ice-blue torches that are Annie's eyes always feel to be analyzing him, picking him apart bit by bit. If Armin didn't do the same thing to her, perhaps he would feel more uncomfortable about it. "If my food tester says so." She sighs amusedly. "After all, you wouldn't lie about something being good for a pregnant woman after she slaves away for you."

Armin almost chokes on one of the small fish bones. He's aware she is trying to get a rise out of him and he really is telling the truth that half of dinner _is_ good, but Annie calls attention to a book he remembers reading. He can't believe he's forgotten and as Annie brings up the fork, his hand shoots forward, blocking her mouth from the slice of fish at her lips.

"This is good...but I don't think it's good _for_ you. One of the medicine books the Marleyans gave us say this fish has a lot of mercury and it can cause problems in pregnant women." Annie's heart skips a beat when the sincerity in his gaze eases the skin around his eyes. "Sorry, I should have said something before you went through all this trouble. I'll eat it this batch and then I'll make dinner for you."

Annie's eyebrows are barely bunched together with her face keeping relaxed, but he can see the touched surprise in her eyes. "You don't have to be polite." She reasons. "Just say you don't want it and we can throw it away. You don't have to force yourself to-"

Armin stuffs the fish into his mouth forkful after forkful, a focused trench stuck between his eyebrows the whole way. Annie nearly chuckles when she observes how her vegetables and rice are swallowed more easily than the fish; Armin actually looks pleased after each gulp.

When the plates are empty, Armin lifts his head, the wide smile he wears childish with flecks of skin bordering around his lips. "Done."

The persistent curl edging Annie's lips shows she is flattered, thankful even, but she is not above teasing during a tender moment. "Mm, and don't you look like you think you deserve a medal for finishing it all."

The napkin Armin rubs on his lips scrapes away the scales and hides his amused smile. His stare explains she shouldn't give him more openings to critique her cooking, but Annie only shrugs, a gentle laugh escaping that shakes her shoulders as she rests her face in her hand. She surrenders, for now.

"Sasha de-boned some chickens today." Armin brings up. "I can find them and cook that for you instead.". He stands up, his eyes warm and Annie can't stop her heart from hammering against her ribcage. "I also read that it's healthier for both of you too."

Annie's face stays put in her right hand until she snaps it away, hiding her blush from him. Her persisting shyness is cute to Armin and it spurs a plume of triumph to inflate his chest and move more quickly about the room to find the poultry Sasha hides.

While Armin works his way around the booby-traps Sasha has set-up around her stash, the young mother-to-be drums her fingers against her cheek. This flood of emotions could be tagged as her own hormones raging once again, but she finds that isn't entirely true. Her thoughts for the past few months have been a mess, exacerbated only by her past following her to the island and the discovery of her pregnancy. She doesn't understand many things, like why Armin doesn't leave to find some noble girl instead of trapping himself in social isolation with her. He still has a chance to maintain his image, and in her perspective, him _not_ running away while he has the chance is the stupidest thing Armin's ever done.

" _Ow!_ " Armin hollers.

Annie's sight zips to the irritated blond who shakes his bright-red fingers. "Ow...putting a nest of rat-traps around food is just unnecessary and _mean_." He sucks on his injured digits. "...I guess I should just be thankful Sasha didn't put some poison gas tripwire if I got to the food…"

Armin thinks about how the idea isn't exactly far-fetched and quickly swipes the chicken breasts from their hiding place. He unwraps it from the paper, humming a tune as he starts the stove and plants the chicken inside the pan.

Annie stares out the window while Armin cooks. Beyond the walls is where her desire for a normal life was born, sitting alone in the house she grew up in. Guilt vines around Annie's heart as she ponders how Father is doing, how disappointed he would be to see her not only being friendly with the enemy, but to be working on a family of her own with one of them too. The frightened child inside still yearns for his praise and love, begs to be released from her duties.

It's a cycle she worries she'll impose on her children too.

Armin's baby keeps struggling to get comfortable, so much so that Annie shifts a bit in her chair and moves her hands to rest where her underbelly meets the top of her thighs. The sensation is not... _entirely_ annoying, but she is acutely aware of her lack of patience and is nervous for how she will be pushed further once the baby is born. She's selfish, not good with words or physical contact, overprotective of what little she has, and damn it, if one could detect a bad mother by smell she would _reek._

"We both agreed to try and not think too much." Armin points out from the stove. Her vision locks onto the Corpsman's back and for a fleeting second, Armin feels as if a hot beam from a magnifying glass is aimed between his shoulder blades. "And if we are thinking too much, we'd talk about it."

"Only if you tell me what you were thinking too." Annie quickly counters. "I know that look you get. You can't tell me you weren't doing the same thing earlier."

He looks back at her, ocean spheres softly challenging her. "Not if you think I was worrying about the baby." He turns around to let the chicken sear, his palms resting at the edge of the counter. His focus is glued on her. "You're not going to be an abusive mother, Annie."

 _And how would you know that?_ She thinks to herself. Her father showed remorse and love at the end, but his callousness robbed her of a childhood. Who's to say she won't find a way to repeat what her father started?

She doesn't see Armin walk up to her. She flinches when he affectionately fans out the pads of his fingers over her stomach's peak until his palm rests against her. The infant inside has ceased moving seconds ago, allowing Annie some much needed peace and she breathes out a long sigh. She lifts a hand and places it over Armin's.

"We also haven't thought up of names yet." Annie spots how his voice dips with gentle caution. "It's past seven months and we don't have anything lined up."

Annie doesn't buy that _he_ hasn't thought of names as Armin is the type to look towards the future. She, on the other hand, wars with herself to tell him why she holds back. Armin is close friends with a Beast whose onyx dots watch her every move, shoot her the elevator daily to ensure she is taking care of herself, that her dinner tray is empty, and Annie isn't naive enough to think that she does it all for a traitor's sake. Armin is precious to Mikasa, so therefore his children are, but Annie's glacial glare fights her rival at every turn, warning that if she's bold enough to think she can so much as _touch_ her baby, she'll see a true monster.

"Annie," Armin says so gently, the armor around her heart cracks. He kneels down next to her to get on an even level with her. "Please tell me what's going on."

Mikasa's stare and comments are lodged in Annie's brain like a pesky thorn and she swears the wound is infected. It's putting her head in a daze, the shell she wears cracking all around her until a wide enough gap forms, allowing Annie to blurt out, "Mikasa thinks it's a boy."

The only reaction Annie gets from Armin is a rapid series of blinks. "How can she tell for sure? Not even Marley has the technology to find out the gender."

Annie hesitates again. She isn't sure and after Annie prodded Mikasa with the same question Armin asked, the black-haired girl admitted to not knowing either.

" _Just a hunch."_ Annie remembers the black-haired woman saying. She stood before her in the cell, eyes averted and far-away in thought. _I've heard somewhere that boys sit lower in the womb than girls_ _and mothers can tell when they are carrying differently."_ Eyes too similar in looking as soulless and hollow as Annie's stare back at her. _"That's what you look like."_

"A hunch." Annie responds. "That's all she'd say."

"Then that's probably all it is."

"Sasha agrees."

 _That_ made Armin's brows rise. Mikasa is intelligent, but Annie figures she assumes off a baseless gut-feeling. Sasha's instincts, on the other hand, are razor sharp and has bred livestock for years. Instincts attuned to nature paired with fierce intellect made their son's existence more convincing.

Armin scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. Then is that why you've been acting this way? A little more..."

Before he can finish, Annie's lips peel back into a snarl. "Acting in _what_ way?"

Armin's eyes widen in realization that he's talked himself into no-man's land and quickly backpedals. "What I meant was, is Sasha and Mikasa telling you the gender a reason why you wanted to cook? Do more things outside the cell? You've never wanted to before and you...you've even asked for a book on how to knit."

His tone is incredulous and it makes Annie's stare turn icy "I'm trapped underground all day and get bored. I'd read _anything._ " The female shifter still glowers at the soldier bowing his head in surrender, but she decides to think about his question more deeply, "Her saying that just made this all feel more...real."

Armin finds this interesting and curiously tilts his head. "Being told it's a boy makes it feel more real than the baby moving?"

He is asking a genuine question, but she flashes him an angry glare anyway and Armin slaps his forehead with his palm in acknowledgement that he isn't doing well at being sensitive right now. " _Yes._ I don't know how to explain it, but that's how I feel. It's not like being a mother was ever on my life's agenda."

 _Nothing except my mission was my agenda._ She thinks.

Armin's gaze is apologetic, sad even. He holds the hand atop her stomach tighter, running a thumb over her knuckles. "I know you don't believe me, but _I_ know you'll do great. Whether it's a boy or girl, we'll be okay. Just wait and see."

She doesn't believe him, though the comforting lilt in his voice and grounding hold makes Annie more open to the possibility. She feels that what could be their son is comfortable now, resting and waiting like his parents to see him in two months. Anxiety constricts her chest.

Annie has heard of both women and babies dying during childbirth and this occurring in a place where science is more advanced. If Marley has birthing troubles, who's to say this remote island won't have it and it be ten times worse?

She's distracted from her worries when a charred smell stings her nostrils. Annie recognizes the aroma and lets out a chuckle that's between amused and condescending. "I think overcooked just became burnt."

Armin gives her a puzzled look before his memory starts up again. "Oh, _Oh crap_!" He darts back to the stove, scrambling to save the chicken. Annie waits patiently until she sees that all he brings back are two crisp chicken breasts too close to being completely burnt.

"I guess neither of us have very good timing." Annie posits with a light smile.

Annie has to fight not to laugh as a tight-lipped line forms across Armin's mouth. He crosses his arms and sits back in his chair, disappointed. "...I was distracted."

"And I was being held captive. Not so easy to beat the cooking clock, is it?"

Armin's displeased frown stays aimed at his failed attempt at dinner, keeping his arms crossed. It's not long before he snickers, more snickers escaping through his teeth, then soon erupts into laughter. Annie can't resist and laughs a little with him. "I guess both of us need a little more practice." Armin sheepishly admits. "At least you did better than me. Yours actually looked like dinner _and_ you've been gone for years. Mine is just...there."

She almost wants to punch him for reflecting her teasings so easily and even dragging her along to laugh with him. "Yes, you could have done better." She puts it bluntly. Her desire to tease evaporates and is replaced with sympathy. "But at least you tried."

The Corpsman nods at that, murmuring quietly, "Right." They sit across from each other for a silent moment, the plates in front of them becoming cold until Armin reaches out for her hand. She grabs ahold and his voice is beautifully genuine when he says, "Practice makes perfect, Annie. In more ways than one." He squeezes her hand. "So, keep trying."

Tears burn behind Annie's eyelids, her stomach dipping like she's swallowed a stone. This man caressing her is sweet, considerate, and motivating, everything she wanted in a father. She hangs onto his hand for dear life, thankful to know that even if she happens to misstep during motherhood, Armin will be there to help her and their baby—their son. She's never made good choices but choosing Armin and carrying his child to term are the best decisions she's ever made.

Annie brushes her thumb over his fingers. Her doubt isn't completely broken, but she can believe in herself when she responds softly with, "I'll keep trying."


End file.
